


The Unexpurgated  Log of Moira O’Deorain

by Tat_Tat



Category: Overwatch (Video Game)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Vampire, Blood, Blood Drinking, Blood Kink, Co-workers, Complete, F/F, Falling In Love, Fluff and Angst, Lab Sex, Mild Blood, Needle play, Needles, Office Sex, POV First Person, Pre-Fall of Overwatch, Vampire Sex, Vampires, the angst is in the second chapter, the fluff is in the first chapter
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-01-19
Updated: 2018-01-23
Packaged: 2019-03-06 18:34:37
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 3
Words: 9,994
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13417170
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Tat_Tat/pseuds/Tat_Tat
Summary: Moira recounts her time in Blackwatch,including the intimate details of her relationship with Dr. Angela Ziegler and her most well kept secret.





	1. Year One

**Author's Note:**

> Inspired by Carmilla by Joseph Sheridan Le Fanu and other works written in that era.

**January 14 20xx**

 

Reyes tells me that I will be collaborating with a doctor from the medical division for a new project. I would rather work alone.

 

**January 16 20xx**

I was told to expect my new partner within a week. No other details have been given about this person. Most would be curious, but I am not eager to meet them and expect they will leave soon enough. 

 

It was agitating when I was asked to tidy my lab in preparation. I considered doing it, but I have not. This does not stem from laziness. My new partner will just have to make room on their own. My lab is not a sty like Reyes has implied.

 

**January 23 20xx**

 

Today, my new partner was to join me. But I was informed that ‘she’ called in sick. As I thought, this won’t last.

 

**January 27 20xx**

 

She came today. She introduced herself as ‘Dr. Ziegler.’ I have heard much about her and have read her work. Our paths have crossed before in hallways, but she was always distant then. So now that I have seen her up close, I will describe her:

 

She is the most beautiful creature I have ever seen. Her skin is so pale that I can see the network of veins crisscrossing underneath. Her veins are large as well. As a doctor I notice these things. I know that it would be simple to draw her blood.

 

Her hair is bright blonde and reflects under the fluorescent lighting. Her heart-shaped face is framed by soft waves that curl in towards her face, like down feathers. Her eyes are blue like one of my own. She looked tired today, but that is nothing strange in our line of work.

 

It is unusual that she’s drawn my attention. I prefer tall, dark women, with features like Gerard’s wife,  Amélie . 

 

She apologized for being absent the past few days and explained that she was injured while on the field.

 

“That must be a lot,” I said, “to work in the field and in the medical wing, and now here with me.”

 

She told me she likes to keep herself preoccupied. I believe her, based on word of mouth and the papers she has written. She is brilliant, if naive, held by back a code of stiff moral conduct (a social construct). 

 

I helped clear a space for her to work and then we began our combined efforts in silence.

 

**January 29 20xx**

 

My compliments are normally rare, but I caught myself giving one to Dr. Ziegler today. She surprised me by finding the solution to something that has been puzzling me for the past week. I didn’t ask for help -- my pride prevents me -- but she noticed something was awry. She has a keen eye for the needs of others.

 

She did not gloat, merely smiled with a slight nod and continued onto another aspect of the project.

 

Her kindness is irresistibly admirable, like the rest of her.  However I’m inclined to believe it’s not based on selflessness, but insecurity. I asked her what brought her to Overwatch. She replied readily that she wanted to help others and to be useful. 

 

‘To be useful.’

 

**February 4 20xx**

 

Dr. Ziegler told me today that Reyes asked her how we were working together. (He did not ask for my own opinions about our partnership.)

 

I didn’t deign to ask her what she told him, but she confided regardless that she was finding our partnership agreeable.

 

“Why do you say that?” I asked, surprised. In the past I’ve pushed colleagues away; it is in my nature.

 

She told me it was my passion. I laughed. “Don’t you mean ‘drive?’” 

 

I saw Reyes later in the evening as I was pouring two strong cups of coffee. I asked him if he found the biotic orbs I designed favorable in the field, but I did not ask him why he asked Dr. Ziegler how she was faring.

 

He didn’t bring it up, nor did he ask me my feelings about this partnership.

 

**February 14 20xx**

 

The base was quiet today, the lab quieter, due to a holiday.

 

Dr. Ziegler carried a red basket on her person when she came in today, full of chocolates from Switzerland. It was nearly empty when she came in as she had passed out the presents on the way to the lab. 

 

She gave me one and reacted to my silence by asking if I didn’t like chocolate. I thanked her for it, but she was not convinced and offered to gift me something more to my tastes.

 

As I type, I am eating the chocolate. It is rich and slightly bitter, and although I am not normally one to eat sweets, I enjoy eating this.

 

**February 15 20xx**

 

In return for the chocolate, I gave Dr. Ziegler a bag of hot chocolate mix I saw in the train station gift shop and a new coffee mug. I offered to clean the mug for her and brew her first cup of the day with her new mug.

 

I mixed the coffee with the hot chocolate mix and she appeared content. She said my actions surprised her. After that, we didn’t say anything else the rest of the day.

  
  


**March 21 20xx**

 

Today I was injured during an experiment. It was a small cut. I had broken one of the test tubes, and concerned about the timer going off behind me, hastened to clean up the glass. One of the shards embedded itself in my forefinger. Instantly, like a guardian angel, Dr. Ziegler came upon me and asked if I was ok. 

 

I reassured her I was okay and pulled the glass out myself. She froze, watching me, her eyes drawn to the blood curling into the dip of my palm. How peculiar that a doctor would frighten at the slightest glimpse of blood. I commented on this. She said this wasn't the same.  “On the battlefield your adrenaline races and the setting, the mentality is different.”

 

I am not wholly convinced. 

 

Her reaction was peculiar, I did notice.It was as if she was afraid of what she was thinking about as she watched more than she was afraid of what she was seeing. Perhaps the wound triggered a memory of her time in the field, or a patient that could not be saved.

 

**April 3 20xx**

 

Yesterday evening, we took an uncharacteristically lengthy break. We sipped rather than downed our coffee and used the comfortable leather seats in my office. 

 

We talked mostly about work until Dr. Ziegler broke the topic and asked me about myself. 

 

I didn’t purposely talk about my work to avoid answering the question. To me, the two are inseparable, but Dr. Ziegler thought I was changing the subject and pursed her lips. In a bid for my trust she insisted I call her ‘Angela’ from now on and then politely asked if she could call me by my first name.

 

I did not dislike it when she called me ‘Moira.’

 

**April 30 20xx**

 

Angela gave me notice this morning that tomorrow afternoon she will be dispatched for a field mission. Per orders she cannot disclose more details, even though my presence here is also confidential. 

 

**May 1 20xx**

 

It was quiet. I brewed more coffee than needed; force of habit.

 

**May 4 20xx**

 

I saw Angela while she was on her way to make her report on the recent mission. Our conversation was brief. I told her it was good to see her again, hiding my concerns. She thanked me and made me aware she wouldn’t be in the lab today, as there were still loose ends to tie up from the first of May.

 

I brewed the same amount of coffee, but this time not out of unquestioned habit. I kept my eye on the door as I performed today’s experiments and left it unlocked, but Angela was true to her word. I didn’t doubt her, but I hoped, and that was unusual in itself: hope where it shouldn’t be warranted. 

 

**May 7 20xx**

 

We caught up in my office, taking a break. I requested she allow me to examine her. She resisted at first, assuring me that a physician (other than herself) had inspected her after the mission.

 

“It went smoothly,” she said, unable to share more. 

 

Eventually she gave in and I tested her reflexes and gently pressed my fingertips on her inner wrist to count her pulse. Her pulse was slow. She said that was usual for her.

 

I had assumed she would have high blood pressure, or anxiety considering what she is exposed to on the battlefield and her work habits.

 

But perhaps she is just that perfect: beauty, brains, passion, hard-working and unshakable.

 

Unshakable, except when I had pulled a chunk of glass from my fingertip just two months earlier. I wonder what her heart rate was then?

 

**August 2 20xx**

 

Months have passed, filled with the trudge of trial and error. Reyes came by my office yesterday. I sense that he’s impatient.

 

**August 4 20xx**

 

Although months have passed, I have only now realized I have never seen Angela eat. I didn’t think anything of it for I skip meals to a distressing degree. I only notice it now, because of what I have seen.

 

Yesterday evening, she excused herself to the medical wing. She said she had forgotten something. I left her to it until nearly an hour had passed. My concern lay in the fact that as far as I knew, she and I were the only ones on base that were awake. 

 

I thought, perhaps someone could be awake, someone could have stopped her for a conversation or a favor...

 

But another thought passed too, one that drew me out of my chair to hasten down the halls.

 

I didn’t pass her or anyone else on the way. My steps echoed and as I drew closer my heart beat faster.

 

She was not in the doctor’s office or any of the examination rooms. I almost left, worry gnawing at me like vermin, when I heard the shuffle of fabric against the floor, coming from the storeroom.

 

I knocked and asked if anyone was inside but no one answered. Still I swore I had heard something...

 

The storeroom was locked but that only stalled me for a moment. I took a chair and broke through the door, prepared for anything but the sight that lay before me:

 

Angela was on the floor, backed up against a wall. Her mouth was covered in blood and there were speckles dotting the flat collar of her white lab coat. 

 

My pulse quickened at the sight of her, at the desperation reflected in her eyes and the blood covering her that at first glance I mistook as her own.

 

And then I saw the blood bag clutched in her hands, half full. I imagined that in normal circumstances Angela was careful, but my intrusion had surprised her, thus the blood across her lab coat. She caught my realization, squaring her shoulders and showing her straight teeth in a frightened snarl.

 

Beautiful creatures such as she are classified as predators, but as I approached, she appeared to be prey, scrambling against the wall.

 

She was surprised when I helped her up and withdrew a napkin from my pocket to clean the blood from her face. In a daze, she helped me clean up the room and afterwards I led her back to her room, where I stayed with her until she asked me to leave. (I do not think she slept.)

 

I emailed Reyes to inform him that the door to the storeroom in the medical wing was broken and explained it had malfunctioned, trapping Dr. Ziegler inside. He accepted the story, although not without agitation.

 

Work was out of the question after what had transpired.  My head was busy, thinking back to every interaction I had with Dr. Ziegler up to this point that hinted towards her bestial nature. I read through my past entries on her and have seen our time together in a new light.

 

**August 18 20xx**

 

Over a week has passed since I uncovered Angela’s secret. She does not talk about it, though I bring it up. She has resisted invitations to my office since. Occasionally, I offer to walk her to her room, but again she demurs. She even works longer hours than me, waiting for me to leave to avoid that interaction.

 

I have thought deeply about Angela and what she is. Such old creatures that they are considered a myth. It is unfortunate that every text I find is either a book of folktales or a foolish romance novel.

 

For now, I can only observe. 

 

**August 19 20xx**

 

This morning, I overheard someone who spoke wonderingly of Angela’s youth and chuckled. I am certain that ten years from now she will look the same as she does now.

 

**August 29 20xx**

 

The other night Angela excused herself to the medical wing. I did not question, nor did I follow her, even after an hour passed. She returned ten minutes after two and resumed her work.

 

I am embarrassed that my approach was aggressive in the initial stages. I realize that Angela's trust is not something I can take by force.

 

X

 

**September 30 20xx**

 

Tonight, Angela brought up her vampirism. We were working in the lab, backs facing each other. 

 

When she mentioned it, I slowly turned to her and set down my tools. I took her hand in my own gently and urged her to not speak of it here.

 

Then I suggested that we carry on the conversation outside. I assured her that the crowded bar would blur our conversation and bought her a drink. The drink eased her nerves and she readily accepted another on my tab, and then she confided to me about more than she would have perhaps in hindsight cared to. 

 

“You’re not going to tell anyone?” she asked, peering at me like a child. 

 

She accepted my hand again and I promised her secret was safe. Some part of me I believe had planned to use it for blackmail (depending on what would become of my career in Blackwatch).  However I did not account for how perfectly her hand fit in my own.

 

I walked her home, holding her heels in one hand as she held onto me for balance. 

 

X

 

**October 1 20xx**

 

I suppose I should catalog why I-- without hesitation-- not only accepted but recognized Angela’s true nature that night over a month ago.

 

She is admittedly the first vampire I have met, but not my first supernatural creature. In Ireland where I was born, fae are considered as much a part of nature as the common crow or stag. They are a part of the natural order of things, however dangerous. 

 

I was warned as a child to avoid them, but they always came to me then, perhaps because I was a child. The first one I recognized, I met at the edge of the sea, near the jagged cliffs. She appeared quite young, yet carried a maternal aura. Her breasts were speckled with freckles and exposed to the cutting wind, but she did not flinch. Her hair was ink black and long. Her smile, her fins, and her eyes were sharp. Everything about her suggested that she should not be approached, and that merely seeing her may even be a grievous mistake, yet I stepped towards her with keen curiosity. I was only able to catch a glimpse of her scaled legs and flat feet before she did me a kindness and jumped back into the sea.

 

As I recollect this, I realize my reaction to the fae woman back then is the same as when I first met Angela. The thrall of her otherworldly beauty drew me to her against all reason. 

 

I do not see such creatures nearly at all anymore. I was skeptical as a child and as an adult about my experiences and sought professional guidance. I have undergone physical and psychological evaluation to find that I have no such condition that would incite hallucinations. 

 

One would suppose my scientific background would be at odds with what others would call ‘hoaxes’. With how far we have reached with science, it is a wonder no one calls us frauds.

 

And is science not also a curious appetite for the unknown? 

 

**October 12 20xx**

 

Tomorrow is Friday the thirteenth, so Angela says. She has asked me if I will be at the work Halloween party.

 

I laughed, slightly bitter. “They don’t invite me to events.” I waved the subject off, but Angela pursued it, insisting I go.

 

“Wear a costume,” she suggested finally. “No one has to know it’s you.”

 

**October 13 20xx**

 

I will admit it was amusing to watch my coworkers cavort in costumes, the better ones made by Reyes. His own costume exhibited the best craftsmanship out of the five he had made for his colleagues, dressed as a plague doctor in all leather.

 

However, I am rightfully biased to say that despite how well made his costume was, I preferred Angela’s more. There were two playful slits at the sides of her form-fitting, high-collared witch costume, the sight of which near compelled me to drag my nails up her high stockings .But as our relationship was a professional one only, I kept it as just a thought.

 

There are fruits to be won by holding such restraint. Later in the evening she coaxed me into a dark corner of the balcony. The moon was a half crescent above us and we were just out of its light. And under this cover of darkness, with a few drinks under her belt, Angela leaned into me and teased me with a brief kiss.

 

Her breath tasted like cinnamon and cider and as she pulled back, I pulled her back in.

 

I noted fondly the skip in her step as she playfully departed from our embrace to rejoin her friends.  I stayed at the party longer than I wanted to, looking forward to her return, but she remained within her tight circle of friends, laughing, chatting, and growing drunker as the night progressed.

 

I stayed until I was sure she was in safe hands, led back to her room on base by Ana Amari. I had almost come to claim her, but the crowds held me back, as well as Reyes’ s presence close by. I was not supposed to be at the party and I was unsure how many drinks he had imbibed.

 

**October 14 20xx**

 

Despite everything, Angela came in today. She was hungover but persevered, although her complaints were not minimal. I invited her to come with me to the cafeteria to eat on the terrace and she agreed the fresh air might help her condition. During my meal (as her dietary habits differ from mine), she professed in a whisper that she remembered our moment together.

 

**October 29 20xx**

 

Our routine has shifted since. Now when Angela brings us coffee in the mornings, her hand brushes against my arm. 

 

In the evening, I bid her good night, my lips dotting the dimple that shows when she smiles.

 

**October 31 20xx**

 

Although Angela and I made no official plans to work together this evening, I was displeased when Ana Amari and Wilhelm burst into the lab to fetch her.

 

Angela said they were going to take Ana’s daughter out trick or treating and asked if I’d like to come along.

 

I regarded her company and declined. I suspect my response came off as abrasive, for Ana Amari’s lips thinned and Angela frowned slightly. Wilhelm did not care or did not notice and carried both women off over his broad shoulders. 

 

I considered joining them later but the night escaped me.

 

**November 14 20xx**

 

The year is drawing to a close and our annual review is approaching. The overtime I pulled Halloween night has proven to be worth the effort. Reyes came by the lab unexpectedly and requested a walkthrough of our progress so far. 

 

He seemed pleased enough and said he expected the work to be complete by April.

 

**December 10 20xx**

 

There is a holiday party tonight to which I am not invited to as a member of Blackwatch. Angela is going of course, for she cannot resist festivities or an excuse to dress up. 

 

I watched her fastidiously primp in front of the mirror, donning a beautiful, short, red dress with white trim and a Santa hat. As she put on her makeup, I took on the role of a pleasing distraction and kissed her bare shoulders.

 

“Moira!” she gasped. If I had not caught the slight agitation in her voice, I would have mistaken it for pleasure. I stopped and spotted the source of her dismay.  Reflected in the mirror was a visible reaction to my teasing: she had draw her lipstick all the way up to her ear. I couldn’t help but laugh.

 

She fussed and I helped clean her up. Then, in a show of apology, I drew the red across her lips before kissing her deeply, messing it up all over again.

 

**December 23 20xx**

 

My own suggestion to go on holiday surprised us both, however I had expected she would be enthused by the idea. 

 

“What about your work?” she asked, arching a brow skeptically.

 

“‘Our’ work,” I corrected and then reminded her we had a head start. I had made a lot of progress in October, and although I was eager to continue forth, the promise of alone time, outside of the lab, enticed me more.

 

I asked her where she would like to spend our holiday. Her only answer was, “Somewhere quiet.” She left the rest up to me but insisted on buying her own train ticket and splitting the lodging fee. 

 

It snowed on the train ride to the countryside.  The white landscape appeared soft and reminded me of rabbits. Angela had taken the window seat beside me to watch the snowfall, but soon dozed off. Hearing her snore, I pressed a kiss to her temple and drew a cover up to our shoulders.

 

When I woke, her hand was in mine and she was wide awake, going through her work email on her phone. I tutted and pulled it from her. We had promised each other we would not work during our holiday.

 

I almost said that for her infraction I would have to ‘punish her,’ but refrained as we were not yet sexually intimate.

 

That changed, however, later that night. We were in the midst of changing into our pajamas when Angela approached me for no reason other than to stroke my abdomen with a quiet admiration. Her eyes explored my half-clothed body, and while her hand rose with daring, there was still a brooding hesitation reflected in her eyes.

 

Wordlessly, I pulled her closer and gave her a kiss of encouragement.

 

“You’re not scared?” she asked.

 

“Terrified,” I said sardonically. She did not catch my humor and nearly flitted away from me, but I caught her and brought her hands back where they were. Then I stripped off the remaining clothes I had on and lay back in the bed to cement the invitation.

 

Later, when we were naked under the mussed bedsheets, our lust still keeping us warm, she apologized for her selfishness.

 

I told her she hadn't been, but further, that there was no shame in being selfish. 

 

I licked my lips. Just a few moments ago she had perched upon my face and grinded against my lips. The taste of her still lingered, as did the way her voice pitched, begging me to continue.

 

I said that I liked when she was greedy. I liked the thought of her taking care of herself. 

 

She said she wished I would take better care of myself too.

 

And then we paused, staring at each other before breaking into a fit of laughter, for we both are notorious for neglecting our own health. We joked that we had been brought together to take care of each other, although I suspect we were not completely joking.

 

The rest of the holiday was primarily spent in our room, taking full advantage of the privacy to express our affection for each other. Clothing was minimal on Angela’s part, at most a large, hand-knit sweater Reinhardt made her for Christmas. I do not mind my own nakedness, but felt more comfortable dressed in loose pinstripe slacks and an old button-up shirt. 

 

We struggled to sleep in, but found ways to tire ourselves out ,and when we grew anxious, finding nothing else to do, we dressed and took a walk on the trail nearby or went into town for last minute Christmas shopping. 

 

In the evening, by the space heater, we would exchange foot and back massages that often devolved into coitus.

 

The memorable holiday together ended this morning so Angela could visit her relatives for the last three days of her vacation. I brought her to the train station, and although we’re not prone to public displays of affection, we kissed with such a fervor that Angela almost missed her train. (Perhaps the change of scenery helped.)

 

As for myself, I plan to use my remaining vacation days at home in my office to start my thesis:  _ Genetic Programming: Deconstruction and Reconstruction. _

 

**December 31 20xx**

 

I’ve accomplished little work on my thesis or on my collaborative project with Angela due to a bout of illness that took me soon after my last entry.  I was embarrassingly incapacitated for almost a week and Angela scolded me when she returned on the twenty-seventh to find me in the lab running a fever. 

 

She dropped her briefcase and came forthwith. Her palm had barely touched my forehead when she commented on my temperature. She then asked how long I had been sick.

 

There was no use lying to her, and as I predicted her concern deepened, along with an edge of frustration towards my persistent self-negligence.

 

She ushered me to my quarters on base and left after pouring a glass of water for my bedside. She returned quickly carrying two sleeves of crackers and a bottle of ginger ale. She left two pills for me on the nightstand and another full glass of water. She warned me that if she caught me out of bed--  or worse-- if she caught me working-- that she wouldn’t hesitate. Hesitate to do what, she did not explain. 

 

Then her tone softened and she kissed my hot forehead, promising to return in a few hours to make chicken noodle soup. 

 

She looked after me like an ever vigilant and stern guardian angel. I can’t recall the last time someone looked after me like she did.

 

To be at the mercy of others would in most circumstances humiliate me, but Angela does it in such a way that you feel you are doing her a favor by allowing her to take care of you.


	2. Year Two

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for the sweet comments. I hope you’re ready for tons of sex, kinky stuff and angst.
> 
> This chapter contains bloodplay, needleplay, and horror elements.

**January 12 20xx**

 

Angela noticed that in a few days, our project-- and our partnership-- will be a year old. She has suggested we celebrate then, since I was sick New Year’s Eve.

 

**February 2 20xx**

 

Along with my collaboration with Angela and my thesis, I have reached the testing phase of a few personal projects. 

 

Angela has been called to the field on multiple occasions this past month and just recently let slip that she has been writing something as well.

 

One wonders how we find the time for sexual intimacy, but we often do.

 

No one thinks much of the blinds in my office and Angela is often my only visitor. I still lock the door behind me, if not to be cautious then to placate Angela. 

 

Knowing I might being working long hours, Reyes told me when I started that I could use my office to take a nap, which I’ve yet to do. I’m certain he didn’t mean for me to use the space in this way, but like a nap, making Angela keen around my fingers does reinvigorate the soul.

 

The other night we were again fraternizing in my office over a cup of coffee and sexual intercourse. I had unfastened my tie when Angela took charge and kissed down my body, following each button as it was undone. 

 

She stopped undressing me midway, her mouth finding the fresh cut near my breast. There, she licked and suckled the spot in spite of herself. She didn’t realize the stint of what she was doing until I cupped the back of her head to encourage her.

 

Opening her eyes, she drew back violently, knocking two cups of coffee off the desk to shatter on the floor. As I bent to pick up the pieces I cut my finger and she backed farther away. She reached behind her, searching for the knob. However, as I mentioned earlier, I always lock the door. I approached her before she thought about turning the lock.

 

She shut her eyes and turned her face away from-- not me-- but the two cuts on my body. Her nostrils flared, fighting her basest instincts.

 

Then I did as she asked and stepped away, moving to the dated first aid kit hanging low on the wall (a requirement in all offices and workstations). I quietly cleaned my wounds and from the corner of my eye watched her bend over to pick up her hair tie. She bound her hair back, symbolic of the control she had regained: tight in her hands. 

  
  


**February 10 20xx**

 

Angela has asked me to read over a paper she has been working on while she is out of the country. She didn’t tell me where she has been sent to, but I have my suspicions. 

 

I’ve long proofread the paper, but I reread it often, waiting for her.

 

**February 13 20xx**

 

Angela’s return surprised me this evening. Her face was worn and hair in disarray and she was still wearing her valkyrie suit. It was the first time I had ever seen her in person wearing it, and I imagine if she wasn’t out of sorts, the image would have left me awestruck, but instead I was aghast and came to her.

 

I asked her what had happened,  She was quiet and I surmised she was in shock, but she gripped me with a strength I had never before imagined her capable of and threw me to the table.

 

She straddled me immediately, her wings looking bleak and strange under the harsh fluorescent lighting. Wetness fell on my cheek.  Inspecting it with my fingers, I found it was saliva-- that she was drooling above me.

 

I spoke her name steadily and although she didn’t respond with anything other than her rapacious hunger, I persevered until I found an opening and slipped out from under her.

 

I was quick to the refrigerator, where a blood supply was waiting.  I had pulled the blood samples for testing, but for the sake of my self-preservation and Angela’s, I was willing to sacrifice a few.

 

She drained two bags before she returned to the Angela I am familiar with. The light came back into her eyes and the predator within lay dormant again, bringing the humanity back into her facial features. The first shred of humanity that became apparent was her shame.

 

“Did I hurt you?” she asked and I shook my head. Her eyes caught on my fingers brushing unconsciously against my neck.

 

As I write this, I still think about how her straight white teeth had almost found my neck and how that brush-- from the angel of death herself-- set my body aflame.

 

**February  14 20xx**

 

Angela scowled when I returned the paper covered in proofreading marks and with advice written in the margins. 

 

We didn’t mention the previous night, and although Angela was miffed that I had brutally critiqued her paper, she seemed relieved to have something to distract her from the beastial outburst.

 

She apologized for forgetting my Valentine’s Day present this morning. I told her it was nothing to worry about and invited her to my house later tonight, as I too have a gift to give her.

 

**February 20 20xx**

 

In the middle of our work, backs facing each other, Angela brought up the past two incidents: the most recent one wherein she exhibited the extent of her brutal hunger, and the one before that, at the beginning of February. 

 

She asked me insecurely if I was afraid of her and when I answered that I wasn’t, she openly wondered why.

 

She said I have every reason to fear and distrust her and she would not fault me for it. In return, I asked her if I scared her.

 

She admitted that I do sometimes. I inquired why.

 

Her answer was a surprise and a relief I didn’t know I needed until she spoke it thus, “I’ve never been this close to anybody before.”

 

I told her that was nonsense and brought up Ana Amari and Reinhardt and many of the others I had seen her with, who laughed with her and held her with high esteem. 

 

“I’ve always been cautious, even with them.”

 

“And you’re not with me?” I raised an eyebrow.

 

Her voice caught, and then, “You push me.” She rubbed her arm and looked at the floor tiles. “I’m not sure I like that.”

 

“When you came to me that night, you were in such a state of hunger. Do you not bring...” I chose my words carefully, “sustenance during your field missions?”

 

She explained that she does, but in limited supply, unable to carry much on her person. It had been especially difficult as her luggage had been lost in transit, and then there had been the carnage of battle… how she had held herself back that entire time.

 

I commended her for her self control and asked why a creature such as her would choose this line of work, one that would force her to confront the honey of her dark desires.

 

There was guilt, martyrdom, and sharp flickers of self hatred as she spoke one simple phrase. I had asked her a similar question as before and received the same answer, but I was no less pleased to hear it now.

 

“To be useful.”

 

**March 1 20xx**

 

After our conversation at the end of February, Angela has relaxed. Her trust in me has allowed herself the beginnings of a trust in herself.

 

Her kisses turned sharp this evening at my throat, but no penetration was attempted. Even so, her teeth are flat, not sharp like in the stories. She’s explained to me that vampires often use tools or their nails to create an open wound.

 

She has indulged my curiosity thoroughly. Yesterday she arrived straight from the battlefield, her valkyrie suit in tatters that told deep cuts had been sustained. However, later that night as I unclothed her for a bath, I saw that she was unmarked, her skin fresh and soft as a babe’s. 

 

Seeing the wonder in my eyes she smirked and said, “Must be the nanites in my system.”

 

I chuckled, humoring her. I suspect sometimes that her nanite research was to mask her eternal youth and innate regenerative abilities.

 

When I mentioned taking a blood sample from her to research these natural capabilities, she fiercely declined, even when I argued how it could benefit humanity.

 

**March 10 20xx**

 

This morning, before my first cup of coffee I fumbled with a stack of papers and cut myself. 

 

How surprised I was when Angela came to me, brought my index finger to her lips, and slid her tongue across the diagonal cut in one clean sweep.

 

She has informed me after tasting me that my iron intake is low.

 

**March 17 20xx**

 

Yesterday morning, I informed Angela that I had planned a dinner date and so we would not be staying overnight as we usually do.

 

“Moira, we can’t afford to,” she said, referring to our approaching deadline.

 

I assured her we could afford it and when I added that I would be making dinner, she no longer argued.

 

We left separately to not draw suspicion of our relationship, even though I am certain Reyes knows and if he does, then Jack Morrison &c.

 

She arrived at my doorstep punctually, dressed in jeans and a white shirt, the sleeves flowing. As I closed the door behind us, I smiled and said she may want to remove the shirt, lest we stain it.

 

“Did you make spaghetti?” she asked, taking my instruction. And then she noted my state of dress, a purple silk bathrobe. I untied the sash and parted the cloth, revealing a design of needles embedded in my skin.

 

She gasped, taking a step back, and asked me how I could do this to myself.

 

I didn't say it was because I could. Instead brought up the beautiful, meticulous designs I had created: pinwheels, circles, and sloping vines. If anyone should play with needles, we are the most qualified, knowledgeable of the locations of veins and arteries and safety measures.

 

“Is this what you meant when you said you would make dinner?”

 

“It is.”

 

I reassured her I had thought this through and added that she had fed recently, hadn’t she? 

 

“Yes,” she said.

 

“Then the chance you will go berserk is minimal.”

 

“And you trust those statistics?”

 

I told her I understood the risk and accepted those conditions as an informed adult. She relented for me when I slowly drew a needle out from my flesh and blood welled to the surface.She watched me thenceforth with fascination and desire, her lips parted to smell the iron in the air.

 

I discarded the needles in a sharps container and snapped it shut when I was through, my skin bare but for the thin red stripes that trailed down my body.

 

Angela crawled to me and kissed the tops of my feet to catch the end of the blood trail. From there her kisses moved upwards  Her tongue darted out tentatively at first, then assuredly ran upwards in one stroke up my inner thigh. She didn’t waste a single drop and in-between feasting, gently nipped my labia. She grinned at my reaction and I bent to kiss her forehead.

 

I cleaned myself and we continued in the bedroom.

 

**March 20 20xx**

 

My thesis, Genetic Programing: Deconstruction and Reconstruction, was completed a few days ago and since then I have been awaiting Angela’s input.

 

I had waited patiently, but a week passed and so I brought it up. She hesitated to answer and I asked if she had read it yet; if not that was understandable, considering our schedules.

 

“No, I read it,” she said and squirmed in place.

 

“And?”

 

“It’s dangerous-- Moira, what were you thinking?”

 

“It’s not my first controversial paper.”

 

“I know that-- I thought... I hoped you had changed.”

 

Her words stung sharper than any other critic’s.

  
  


**March 27 20xx**

 

I published the paper, notwithstanding Angela’s concerns.

 

**March 30 20xx**

 

Reyes asked me to meet him in his office today and I sensed the cold blade of the guillotine when I saw my recent thesis on his desk. 

 

He followed my gaze and tapped his forefingers upon it. “This,” he said, “this is why I hired you.”

 

Relief flooded over me, and also curiosity for the man who wasn’t disgusted by what I wrote.

 

“You don’t find it dangerous?” I asked, my smile slightly petulant as I used the descriptor Angela had used days ago.

 

“Of course it’s dangerous, but I didn’t hire you to play it safe. I’ve read your papers before, Dr. O’Deorain--”

 

“Moira is fine.”

 

He looked annoyed by my interruption but continued. “--Moira, and I am aware of your past work. I wouldn’t have hired you otherwise. In fact, I was going to let you go at the end of this month if you didn't produce.”

 

My lips thinned. “Were you?”

 

“I was afraid Dr. Ziegler had influenced you.”

 

“You did assign us together,” I reminded him.

 

His face set, a man not used to interruption.

 

“Do you have anything against Dr. Ziegler?” I asked.

 

“No. She’s the best in her field. She’s just...”

 

“...Careful.” I finished his sentence and he nodded.

 

After this conversation he informed me that the deadline for the collaborative project between us has been extended to next year. He asked me to make use of the extra time to bring the ideas in my paper into fruition.

 

**June 7 20xx**

 

Since April, Angela spends less time in the lab with me, pulled away by a project in the medical wing. We still make sure to see each other in the mornings and in the evenings. The briefest touch at the very least. I do miss her.

 

In some ways, I’m relieved, sure there would be scathing comments if she knew of my recent experiments. My right hand is heavily scarred as of a week ago. I’ve considered gloves but this is no minor thing to cover, and I feel no shame. Angela will worry no matter the result, because it is in her nature.

 

**June 6 20xx**

 

The testing stage has been completed on animals with minimal concerns and I am ready to test on humans. From experience, I know there will not be a big show of hands to volunteer. I had expected to experiment only on myself, but Reyes has come forward as a test subject.

 

Skeptical, I asked him three times if he was sure, and he was unwavering each time.

 

Nothing has yet bloomed from these experiments, but he comes in daily with his energy drink and sits on the table as I run tests. Then he re-dresses and goes on his way as if I had not injected him with drugs he hasn’t bothered to ask about.

 

His trust in me is deeper than Angela's.  I’d almost call it blind, but Reyes is a careful man. He knew what he was getting into when he hired me.

 

**June 18 20xx**

 

Reyes came to me in the middle of the night, soaked in sweat with bewilderment widening the pupils of his eyes.

 

He told me he was brushing his teeth when the particles of his body turned to smoke and floated aimlessly about. When he’d finally gathered himself, he rushed to my office. I grinned after he shared this with me and beckoned him to the cold metal table, the coolness of which I’m sure helped calm his nerves.

 

“This is exactly what I hoped would happen,” I said and he relaxed as I finally explained what I had been doing.

 

“Why didn’t you tell me before?”

 

“You never asked.”

 

**June 19 20xx**

 

Angela has been out of the country for the majority of June and is due to return today.

 

**June 21 20xx**

 

When Angela arrived two days ago, she rushed to embrace me, but as her hand closed around my scarred, one she squeezed it uncertainly before raising it to eye level.

 

She was furiously hurt after i explained its cause. She asked me if i had any sense of self preservation or regard for her feelings.

 

“Werner Forßmann,  Stubbins Ffirth,  Max von Pettenkofer... There is a long history of doctors testing on themselves for the benefit of mankind-- including you, my dear.”

 

Angela scowled. “I was careful, I did extensive testing--”

 

“And how long did it take you to get to the end result?”

 

“Slower than I would have liked,” she admitted and turned away, crossing her arms. “I don’t like this, Moira.”

 

Then she left.  We both had nothing else to say.

 

**July 15 20xx**

 

My entries have been sparse as I have been busy and do not wish to dwell on my strained relationship with Angela.

 

Reyes has gained excellent control of his new ability. I call it ‘fade’ and have since perfected the drug and used it on myself.

 

**July 20 20xx**

 

A month has passed and the experiment I had previously decided was a botched attempt has surprised me with results.

 

I had just finished cleaning the enclosure for the lab rabbits and was picking them up from their temporary home (a cardboard box) when one of the rabbits fainted in my arms. 

 

I was only a little surprised, for rabbits are known to scare easily, but it happened again when I picked up the second, and then the third. 

 

They regained consciousness within three hours and I considered picking them up again, my fingers twitching at the thought. 

 

But I decided to let them rest and worked on the collaboration between Angela and I that had been collecting dust. In the evening I ate and had a cigarette. I am not a habitual smoker and only smoke on the occasion that I need something to clear the thoughts that may interfere with my work.

 

Because of their nap this afternoon the rabbits were livelier this evening.  When I reached to pick the spotted specimen up, she hopped from the threat of my grasp. I instead reached for the tawny-colored one, who fought in my arms until my right hand suddenly gripped her like a vice and she fell fast asleep in my arms.

 

There was the same occurrence when i picked up the remaining two, but unlike the first unintentional trials I paid close attention to my scarred hand.

 

I noticed also a burst of vigor that coursed through me after handling the rabbits, the same sensation that I had felt after the rabbit’s first fainting spell. I had mistaken it for adrenaline then, born of my surprise. Now I recognize it as the essence of life, purely filtered into my being. 

I have ideas for which this ability can be utilized but it will require borrowing from Angela’s research.

 

**July 31 20xx**

 

Angela’s presence has been intentionally sparse on her part, and when she does show up, I feel a mixture of delight, unease, and intense longing. Today, she came in with a cup of coffee for herself and gave me a congenial ‘hello’ and nothing more.

 

We have always worked in silence, but the quiet now feels disharmonious, like a knife wrapped up in silk, waiting to slice through the fabric.

 

**August 1 20xx**

 

Evening came and Angela broke the silence first. She asked me if I missed her, because ‘I didn’t act like it,’ and she teared up, asking if our relationship had meant anything to me.

 

I reassured her it did, put down the test tubes, and quickly snuffed out the flame. She waited for me at her workstation, and as she rose on her toes to kiss me, I was reminded of our first kiss at the Halloween party, almost a year ago.

 

All of our restraint dissolved and we embraced right there, making up for the lost kisses and touches over the past few months. Papers scattered and glass shattered on the floor as Angela made room for herself on the desk. She grabbed hold of my tie and pulled me in to meet her.

 

If she did not believe my words, perhaps she could gleam the truth by how ravenously I accepted the invitation. She was reckless as well, unable to wait for the privacy of my office and biting me so hard that later large bruises bloomed around my neck like a purple choker. 

 

I returned the biting gesture and pulled her bottom lip between my teeth. She groaned beneath me and hiked her skirt up and gave permission to ruin her panty hose. With fiendish delight I dragged my nails up her thigh and ripped the flimsy tights to shreds to reach her sex, which gave off such a feverish heat I thought that touching her might burn me.

 

I was careful to only touch her with my left hand and kept my scarred one occupied, gripping the table for balance. I was slightly distracted by its twitching in agitation, as if itching to grip Angela in its clutches and drain her dry. 

 

**August 2 20xx**

 

This morning Jesse McCree commented on the cravat I wore today. He was dangerously perceptive, mentioning that I usually don’t wear a ‘scarf.’ 

 

**August 3 20xx**

 

Angela hasn’t returned to the office since the first, nor returned my message. When my neck aches, I’m drawn back to that night and against all reason, I become absorbed by it.

 

**August 10 20xx**

 

I have experimented on my right hand’s newfound ability, creating a device that holds the essence gathered that can be later released. The device is not yet viable.

 

My test subjects thus far have been the rabbits and the potted aloe vera plant Reyes gave me as a gift on my first day. Back and forth I give and take, the cycle of life at my fingertips. I am prepared to test on humans and Reyes has agreed to meet me this evening. 

  
  


**August 11 20xx**

 

Reyes fainted in my office last night, but I had half-expected that and was prepared to cover him with a blanket and stay late until he came to. He was disoriented when he woke and I offered him a sports drink and an explanation. 

 

He asked if we could try again later this week and I am utterly thrilled that his tenacity matches my own. 

 

**September 1 20xx**

 

Twice a week since mid-August, Reyes has come to my office to test what I have named the ‘Biotic Grasp.’ Each time he has passed out, until tonight. I think he was expecting to fall faint again, as tonight he arrived at my office in pajamas. He grinned when I teased him and said that if he were to fall asleep not-so-unexpectedly then he should at least be comfortable.

 

Before he fell faint I was able to quickly and successfully administer his essence back into him, sparing a charge for myself and my then wilting aloe plant.

 

**September 15 20xx**

 

We have been able to repeat the results since the first success in early September and the mobile version of the Biotic Grasp is now fully functional. I have concentrated all of my efforts into this, out of self-motivation and Reyes’s request. He has added a fitness regimen to my daily routine (which I loathe) and expects me to be a fully functional member on the field for Blackwatch, who has until this point lacked a doctor during missions.

 

I have never been particularly athletic, though I admire watching others push the limits of their physique. I used to spy on Angela in the training room back when we were in good graces with each other. I still remember her backside.  I had certainly grown familiar with it over the months of easing the tension in her neck.

 

Occasionally when we pass each other in the halls, I can’t help but notice her rub the back of her neck as she rolls her shoulder in circles. It takes everything to remind myself it is no longer my place to reach out and ease her pain.

 

**September 21 20xx**

 

I have been less sore lately.  My body has grown accustomed to the morning workouts with Reyes.  Additionally the cause may be that I have augmented my body to deal with my shortcomings.

 

I have found the exercise an excellent distraction, and when I go back to the lab after a warm shower, I feel awake even before my first cup of coffee.

 

**September 25 20xx**

 

As my training nears completion, I have come to know the other members of Blackwatch as more than a formal handshake. 

 

Reyes has especially acquainted me with Jesse McCree and the Shimada boy as I will be working with them. 

 

**September 30 20xx**

 

I have orders to board a helicopter tomorrow morning with the rest of the team. As I am not sure how long I will be gone, or if Angela will know I am gone, I hired someone to look after the rabbits. I omitted the fact that they are lab animals when I dropped them off to her house and made up a short story about flying back to Dublin to meet with family.

 

**October 6 20xx**

 

I am utterly exhausted and have just arrived back at Blackwatch’s base with a written report due in the morning.  I miss the confines of my lab, my projects, and the luxury of my office.

 

I noticed that while I was gone, things on Angela’s side of the lab were moved.  Perhaps she found my absence advantageous.

 

**October 7 20xx**

 

I fell asleep at my desk and wrote a rushed report, which harkened memories of my early twenties and university.

 

On my way to Reyes’s office, Angela found me. I had no time, but I made it for her, lying that I was in no hurry.

 

“So you work in the field now too,” Angela said, in a dark corridor away from prying eyes.

 

“Yes,” I replied crisply, unsure where this conversation was going.

 

“Moira, I--” she started, but then shook her head. “Be careful.”

 

I didn’t say, “Of course,” or any other variation of reassurance, for I could not make promises. I only said, “Thank you.”

 

Months ago, when our relationship had quietly ended, I was mystified by it. I thought it was my ambition, my thesis, my amorality that had created the fissure, but I realize now that while those may have been contributing factors, the reason at its core is that I worried her.

 

I worried her and she could not bear to watch me descend where she couldn’t reach me. That powerless feeling no doubt reminds her of her parents, whom she lost as a child.

 

**November 25 20xx**

 

In the passing weeks I have seen carnage, but nothing has brought me grievous pause until now. I will speak of what occured over a week ago and spare no detail:

 

I had been separated from my team when I spotted Angela from the corner of my eye. I had the peculiar sense that I should not call the rest of the team to her and found that I was right to do so when I was close enough to see the scene up close.

 

A wounded soldier, still breathing, was laying flat on his back. His blood soaked the grass beneath him.  Angela was bent over him. Rather than closing his wounds, she held them open and feasted on the prize within.

 

She did not stir at my footsteps and I did not disturb her, choosing to watch her until she was done, as one does not interfere with feral creatures when they are eating. 

 

I admit there was a sick fascination to see the duality before me that I had only glimpsed but nine months ago. This incandescent visage, this woman I had grown to love, this vampire had lost the battle with her most basest instincts. 

 

I thought that in this state, Angela would not be self-aware, that it was a dark, contained part that took over, but I discovered that this was not the case. Angela was fully aware of her actions, trembling even as she took this life to supplement her own. She was sobbing into that man’s limp body, into his ribcage, his lungs deflated, pink amid the rest of the organs.

 

Her sobs quieted when she realized my presence, a look of horror passing through her that was deeper than the first time I had caught her feeding. She backed herself into the farthest corner and covered her face, shaking and sniffling.

 

“Angela.”

 

I sat next to her and she paused before she quickly wrapped her arms around me, burying her face into my chest so I could not see her in such a state.

 

I held the back of her head and muted the communicator in my ear. I consciously ignored the call of my comrades for medical aid out of my own selfish need to console her.

 

“I killed him,” she said. “I didn’t mean to.”

 

“I know you didn’t.” I ran my fingers through hair stiff with coagulated blood. “Why haven’t you eaten until now?”

 

She explained that her luggage had been lost in transit. Again.

 

“I tried, Moira. God, I tried...” she muttered, clutching me tighter and tighter. It was not her strength that frightened me, however.  It was her crumbled demeanor, her broken spirit.

 

I have since requested she see a doctor, making multiple suggestions including one I have consulted before with the highest recommendation. She continually pushes the business cards away and along with them, my help.

 

I believe she’s afraid of oversharing with another doctor-- or that Commander Morrison will catch wind of it and force a leave of absence on her.

 

I made the mistake of calling it a ‘mercy killing’ -- an attempt to dislodge her guilt that she mistook for a poor joke.

 

**November 27 20xx**

 

When faced with a problem, find an answer.

 

But I cannot find the answer to Angela’s problems.  She won’t allow me.

  
  


**November 29  20xx**

 

There were repercussions for muting my communicator and deviating from the team last month and I have been put under investigation.

 

Reyes says that not even he can protect me.

 

**December 19 20xx**

 

Although my job in Blackwatch is compromised, I have kept my work ethic. The only change is that I have started to tie up loose ends. I’ve packed my things, transferred my research and this logbook onto flash drives, and returned the potted aloe plant to Reyes.

 

He says there is a chance that my case will be cleared, that I will have a second chance, but I know from experience that once one is put under suspicion in the workplace, their career has already ended.

 

**December 21 20xx**

 

It’s quiet in this place I had called home, with its tiled floors, cold metal tables, beakers, and equipment now all covered in black tarps. 

 

My office is empty and I have already given Angela the lab rabbits which she plans to take home and keep as pets. She admitted to me that she had named them a long time ago: Cocoa, Cookie, and Bon Bon.

 

I linger in the doorway, my fingers on the light switch. Slowly, decisively, I click the switch, darkening the room and its memories behind me.

 

Then I walk down the narrow, lighted corridor. 

 

A new opportunity has been presented to me.  This is not the end.


	3. Epilogue

Sombra leaned back in her chair, a self-satisfied smirk spreading her lips, bathed in the purple luminescence of her computer screens.

 

There were several pictures of a Moira O’Deorain floating around her, and a few of Angela Ziegler, most notably a video pulled from a security camera ten years ago, set on repeat. Over and over again, in the corner of Sombra’s eye, the ‘guardian angel’ voraciously drank a fallen soldier’s blood straight from his chest cavity. 

 

Displayed on the center screen was a text document that Sombra had decrypted (not because Reaper asked-- because she wanted to). It was such easy work to gain access to the files that she expected the contents to be boring. It was anything but dull and she had caught her hands wandering into her pants while reading the provocative bits. 

 

She pulled up a new screen and directly linked to Moira’s computer to play the surveillance footage on Moira's screen.

 

Sombra had been unsure how fast Moira would respond, always cooped up in the lab, but she took the bait within minutes, calling her. They had never been close, but Sombra wanted to change that.

 

She wanted to be more than acquaintances, more than coworkers.

 

She wanted to be friends. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading/commenting/and the kudos! See you next time -next time will be a Werewolf AU.
> 
> Edit 2/23/18: A sweet soul named BongoKat drew fanart. I'm so honored! (Warning for gore)  
> https://tugboat-overwatch.tumblr.com/post/171072166825/vampire-mercy-inspired-from


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